


Challenger: 2012

by ArmsofWar



Series: The Challenger Series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dementia, Gen, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArmsofWar/pseuds/ArmsofWar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel spends one night out of the year down at the lake. Tonight is that night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Challenger: 2012

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to my second installment of the Challenger series. This work will have multiple chapters, but will not be the last piece of the Challenger series. It could not have been done without the help of the lovely deeley bopper. 
> 
> Also, this update comes with only a brief stint of editing. I'm going on a trip so I wanted to get this up before I left.

You couldn't call drive from Lawrence to Willow Springs long. It was a boring, but fairly straight line from Castiel Novak's small house on Sweetheart Lane to Lawrence High School, where he suffered the privilege of teaching physics to uninterested and barely educated teenagers.

But it wasn't long. Every day for ten years, Castiel passed the same fields, the same shops, and most often the same folks who walked up and down the mostly empty roads for whatever reasons. Castiel never stopped to ask.

He did stop, however, for one place in particular, but only once a year.

As the school bell rang to signal the end of the day, Castiel heaved a sigh and watched his students scramble out of the classroom at inspiring speeds. Although he typically would stay late grading papers or working on his upcoming lesson plans until five p.m. or later, he knew that today warranted a quick inspection of the classroom before locking up his and the lab's equipment and hurrying out of the classroom.

“Off early today?” Benny, the school's strangely-beloved janitor and Castiel's oldest friend, asked. The man barked more than spoke and his laugh was like a wheeze—dried up from years of exposure to bleach, cigarettes, and cheap whiskey.

“It's my one day a year,” Castiel said with a shrug, pulling on his coat.

“Is that right?” Benny asked, then his bright blue eyes blazed with recognition. “Oh, you mean your day down at the lake?”

Every year, around this time, Castiel would take the day off to go to the lake and stare up at the sky and remember a time when a warm body would lie close to his own, gazing at the same moon and stars.

While he was very rarely much for sentiment, Castiel allowed himself this small moment of selfish indulgence.

Benny wheeled his mop and bucket over to Castiel, interested. “You know you always go there by yourself. Why don't you bring someone along? I'll be off in a couple of hours. Hell, we could make a whole night of it!”

“Benny,” Castiel warned. He couldn't help but grin at his friend's sudden enthusiasm.

“What? I'll bring a coupl'a drinks, you bring—I don't know—whatever science experiments you want, and I'll bring a couple of hot dogs and we'll be set!” Benny elbowed Castiel gently in the ribs, who yelped at the nudge. The few straggling students down at the other end of the hallway heard the noise and turned, only to stare confusedly at their typically stoic physics teacher and the custodian batting at each other like children.

“Stop, we're getting looks,” Castiel said with a chuckle as the students bustled away.

“Nothing these perverts can't handle,” Benny said, good-naturedly. “So, what'ya say, Cas? Let someone come with ya'?”

Benny's walkie talkie buzzed. “Benny, ya there?”

Benny rolled his eyes, momentarily ignoring the walkie, and pleaded, “Come on, give me something to look forward to, huh?”

Castiel squinted at him, confused. “What do you mean? You have plenty to look forward to. Unless, is there something that you haven't told me about—.” Benny interrupted him with a sigh.

“No, nothing like that,” he said, bringing the walkie talkie up to his lips and saying, “Yeah, yeah what is it?” There was a long pause. “Come on come on, what?”

“Second floor bathroom,” the voice responded, hesitantly. Benny squeezed his eyes shut, massaging the bridge of his nose and letting out a steam of irritated breath.

“C wing?” he asked.

“Yeah,” the voice said. “And I would deal with it, man, but I've got another thirty minutes at the least with this fuckin' boiler, man.”

“No, no, I know you'd do it otherwise,” Benny reassured him. Castiel fidgeted, glancing at the exit hopefully, but Benny was done soon enough.

“Vomit,” Benny announced, unenthusiastically. “Some girl's been vomiting her lunch or whatever every day for the past two weeks.” Cas cooed sympathetically, but Benny waved his hand. “I mean, I don't know nothing about that, and I hope whoever it is gets help but she always clogs the damn toilets when she does it. She must shove an oak tree's worth of toilet paper in the damn thing before she leaves.”

“Huh,” Castiel said.

Benny started walking down the hallway and stopped. “I'm gonna go with you, Cas,” he said.

“What?” Castiel replied, “But I'm leaving now.”

“I know where you'll be. Keep your phone on ya,” Benny was already halfway down the hallway before Castiel could think of a response.

He sighed. It wasn't that he didn't want Benny there. It was that he didn't want anybody there. Castiel valued the quieter things in life, something that his family and friends—what few he had—didn't see very clearly as being a priority.

He didn't know how much he wanted to share his selfish moments of sentiment with anyone, even Benny.

As Castiel strapped on his seatbelt and lurched out of the parking lot in his silver 2001 Honda Accord, his phone rang. A grunt escaped him unwillingly when he saw the caller ID, but he touched the “Accept” button on the screen and answered.

“Hey, Michael,” he said, trying to sound cheerful.

“Castiel,” Michael said, “Where are you?” He sounded urgent and Castiel couldn't believe his dumb, awful luck.

“I'm at the school, Michael, like I am every day,” he said.

“Oh, of course,” Michael said, and he sounded distant, like something was distracting him from their conversation. Given the nature of Michael's condition, that thing could be totally imaginary.

“Michael, is Gabriel with you?” Castiel asked. Michael made no reply, so he repeated himself.

“Gabriel? Why would Gabriel be here?” Michael asked, indignantly.

Castiel might murder his older brother, maybe both of them.

“Michael, what do you need?” Castiel asked.

“What? Oh,” Michael said, clearing his throat. “I am...” Michael trailed off and went silent and Castiel cursed.

“Is there anybody with you, Michael?” Castiel murmured. It was silent on the other end. “Michael?” he asked, louder.

“What? Who is this? Hello?” Michael asked. There was a rustle on the other end of the line and somebody else picked up the phone.

“Hey Mr. Novak,” the voice said, and Castiel recognized that it was the voice of the new neighbor kid from down the street.

“Oh, hey. You're Ennis, right?” Castiel asked, searching through his memory until the name beamed at him like a hazard light.

“Yeah, yeah that's me,” Ennis said. In the few words he said, he could hear the discomfort in the boy's voice and knew, in an instant, what had happened. Sometimes, Castiel wished he could box his family into their tiny house on Sweetheart Lane both to keep them safe but mostly to keep the world from suffering for their sake.

“I'm assuming you found Michael somewhere he wasn't supposed to be?” Castiel said.

“Uh, well I don't know about that,” Ennis said, sounding uncertain, “but he was walking along near Sutton Cemetery and he looked...well he looked a little rough, sir. So, I brought him home.” There was talking between someone with a soft voice, sounding distantly like his girlfriend who Castiel simply could not remember the name of, and his brother. “He's here, for now. There was no one at your place, so we thought it was best he sit tight with us for a little while.”

“Ah, well thank you, Ennis,” Castiel said and sighed. “I'll come by and fetch him soon. I'm sorry for the trouble.”

“Not a problem, sir, not a problem,” Ennis said, then he spoke more quietly to add, “My Pop-pop was similar.” Castiel hummed sympathetically and soon they hung up. He sat, staring at the stop sign to leave the school where he was still parked.

“Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair—which had streaks of premature grey coursing up and down the sides of his head. The Camry behind him let out a short honk and Castiel snapped back into action, rolling out of the parking lot and launching down the road.

About forty minutes later, with sore hands from gripping the steering wheel so tightly the whole ride home, Cas pulled into the driveway of 4 Sweetheart Lane. The house was completely dark, sparing the porch light on the back stoop that turned on when the sun went down. Cas sat in his car, just trying to breathe.

He walked up to the Ross residence two houses away and knocked on the door. The door swung open moments later to reveal Ennis, standing tall at a youthful 20 years old and with a kind, old smile. He may have been young, but his eyes clearly told a different, more harrowing tale than most kids his age.

“Hey, Mr. Novak,” Ennis said, opening the door to let Castiel inside.

“Hello, Ennis,” Castiel said as soon as he walked in, “I'm sorry, again, for all of the trouble.”

“It's nothing at all, sir,” Ennis said, leading Castiel into the kitchen. “Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you,” Castiel said, “I should probably just take Michael home. Where is he?”

“He's with Tamera,” Ennis said.

Ah, yes. Tamera, that was the girlfriend's name.

Castiel was about to go retrieve his brother when a hand, warm and strong, gripped his arm. Ennis looked away from him, embarassed, but held Castiel's arm firmly.

“What? What is it?” Castiel asked, a suddenly dread gripping his heart.

“It-It's nothing,” Ennis said, but still he held on. “It's just...do you think he might need...” Castiel sighed. He knew what Ennis was asking.

“It's been a point of contention since...well,” Castiel said. He scratched the back of his head. “Gabriel wants to put him into a home, and with good reason. Obviously, these sorts of incidences are unacceptable, and I'm sorry that we inconvenienced you.”

Ennis shook his head. “It's not about the inconvenience, Mr. Novak. It's just...it has to be hard. Not just on him, but on you as well.”

“It hasn't been easy,” Castiel conceded. He stopped there, staring at his hands. Ennis grunted, understanding.

“But family takes care of family,” Ennis added. He chuckled, which made a sad sound that echoed in Castiel's ears. “Well, you're better than most, sir. The way you are with him is something I've admired about you from the start.”

Castiel looked at him in surprise. “I...as you said, he's family,” he said, lacking anything better to say.

“Were you close growing up?” Ennis asked.

Biting his lip, Castiel shrugged in response. Nearly twenty years apart in age, and lightyears apart in any other way that mattered, Castiel could hardly ever say that he was close with Michael or anybody, especially nowadays.

Castiel followed Ennis, who thankfully decided to drop that matter. Michael was sitting with Tamera, as Ennis said, and the two of them were putting together a puzzle. Tamera looked up.

“Hello, Castiel,” Tamera said, standing up and wiping off her hands. “Michael and I just started a puzzle.” Michael stared at the puzzle, organizing his pieces in a way Castiel had seen him do since childhood: corners, edges, solid colors and patterns.

“Michael,” Castiel said. Michael didn't look up. “Michael we need to go.”

He still didn't react, so Castiel walked further into the room and sat across from Michael. He noticed Tamera quietly slip from the room and heard whispers from the hallway, and tried to focus solely on his older brother who huddled around his puzzle pieces like they were prizes.

“Michael, please, let's go home,” Castiel said. He reached out and Michael grabbed his hand before Castiel could touch his pieces.

“Don't touch what isn't yours, Castiel,” he growled.

“Michael, let go. We need to leave,” Castiel said. Michael glanced around, and apparently noticed for the first time that he wasn't in his house.

“Where are we? Where did you bring me?” Michael asked, his voice brimming with irritation, and his grip getting tighter and Castiel could feel his bones start grinding together. Michael, unlike some mentally ailing sixty year olds, still had the strength of a giant.

“You were brought here,” Michael,” Castiel said. “You were found wandering, they brought you back to Sweetheart Lane.” Michael blinked at him.

“You...you're speaking correctly,” Michael said. Castiel kept his eyes focused on Michael's, who stared at him in some disgruntled wonder.

“Yes, Michael. I have for some time, let's go home, please,” Castiel said. Michael stared for a while but soon allowed his younger brother to help him stand and the two Novaks walked out of the Ross house hold, with another apology from Castiel, before heading back to their house.

Once Michael was put to bed, which took a great deal of effort, Castiel sat on the couch in his living room. He stared at the television, which mutely ran the evening news and flashed warnings of drought and storms—an interchangeable phenomenon that had the physics teacher shaking his head in exasperation—in between commercials for catheters and expandable garden hoses.

He heard a light knock on his door around nine p.m. Standing, muscles sore from the skirmishes with his brother only a couple of hours before, he stumbled over to his front door and saw Benny standing under the porch light with a cooler in his hand and a determined set to his gaze.

Cas ran a hand over his face, suddenly realizing his mistake. “Benny, I'm sorry, I didn't even think,” he said with a sigh. Benny held up his hand.

“I told you I'd find you,” Benny said. “It would have been easier if you were answering your phone, but I'd like to think I know you enough by now.” Castiel shut the door behind him and the two men set out for the two lawn chairs Castiel had set up in the middle of the yard. A fire was already roaring in the fire pit and Castiel stared at it in surprise.

“When did you do this?” Castiel asked.

Benny elbowed him in the ribs and laughed. “I swear, you'd be flown to Oz and you'd been none the wiser,” he said. The two men ambled to the fire pit and Ben laid down his cooler, taking out two beers and popping them open with a quick efficiency Castiel still never mastered. They drank, quietly.

“Why don't you watch the stars out here?” Benny asked. Castiel looked at him, then looked up at the sky. He saw the big dipper sailing gently, slowly in the sky, inching its way amongst the other stars. “It's almost clearer here then out at the lake.”

Castiel tipped his head back and felt the beer, something heavy and stout, slip down his throat and settle into his gut with surprising immediacy. He stared at the sky for a little longer before muttering, “It's not about the stars.”

“No?” Benny said, sounding confused. “What's it about if it ain't about the stars, then?”

_Lakes shouldn't produce a breeze like this, that lick your skin like salt off of the ocean. They shouldn't be able to rustle your skin and leave you feeling damp and cold, yet calm and grounded. Yet Castiel sat at the Lake and stared up at the sky and felt the cool breeze shimmer off the lake and into his clothes and a shiver trembled up his spine._

_A hand, like magic, reached out and grabbed his arm and rubbed. His skin, damp and cold, was suddenly warmed by dry, calloused hands and fingertips danced across his bicep. The hand and those fingertips finally settled on his hand and Castiel looked momentarily away from the stars and, instead, at the boy lying down next to him._

_“See? Gabriel doesn't know what he's talkin' about,” the boy, his dearest friend, said and Castiel laughed._

_“He can't help that he's a city boy,” he said, both defending and accusing his brother._

_“He's a jerk, that's what he is,” the boy replied, and the two of them snickered. The hand that laced its fingers with Cas's now brushed calloused fingertips against his soft palm._

_Cicadas buzzed in the trees and Castiel took a deep breath of maple and chestnut and grass. His eyes, however, never left the boy that lay beside him._

_“When should we go back?” he asked._

_“Never,” the boy responded with a grin. “Let's live out here. We can stare at stars and float on the lake and...and you won't ever leave me.”_

Castiel stared down at his hands, looked at his drink.

“Is this? Is this about Dean?” Benny asked, who said the name like it was both something to revered and something smelly that crawled up and died under his pick up truck. Castiel took another lengthy pull of his drink and leaned back to slouch in his chair.

“No,” Castiel said. “Tonight, Benny, this is about us.”

Benny laughed, seeing through Castiel's attempt to change the subject, but let him do so anyway. That might be why, even after it all, the two men could confidently call each other friends even when everyone, every single person, had gone.

“So what about this place, huh?” Benny asked.

“What do you mean? Willow Springs?” Castiel asked.

“No,” Benny said, shaking his head and waving his bottle around. “I mean, this. Your house, this street.”

Castiel stared at him in confusion. “Yes, this place...what about it?”

“Well, when are you going to sell it?” Benny asked. At Castiel's continued confusion, Benny laughed, “Oh, my man. You can't tell me that you want to live here forever.”

“Not forever, certainly. I'll be dead long before then,” Castiel said, adding a small smile at the end when he realized how morbid he sounded.

“You can't tell me you've never thought once of moving out? Maybe somewhere closer to the school?” Benny asked.

Castiel certainly couldn't tell him that. He'd thought of it many times while traffic backed up on the two lane road some mornings and most afternoons.

“I can't,” Castiel said. “Not yet. I've got Michael to think about.”

“Screw him!” Benny said. Castiel sighed. This wasn't the first time Benny expressed his feelings on this particular matter. “He'd hardly notice if you sent him to a home, let alone if you moved a little closer to town.”

“You know why I can't move him, Benny. I promised,” Castiel said, picking up a stick and tossing it haphazardly into the fire. Sparks billowed from the small fire before settling into a quiet crackle once more. Benny seemed unimpressed so, although Castiel was wary of doing so very often, he decided to indulge his friend further.

“Actually, I might have to sell this place,” Castiel admitted. At Benny's encouraging silence, he continued, “Apparently my father died last summer with a surprising amount of debt. That on top of the medications for Michael and the plumbing that needs to be completely reworked, I don't think I'll afford to live here for much more than a year or so.”

Benny grunted. “Maybe it's for the best, Castiel.”

They stayed outside, staring at the stars and talking about their lives. Benny talked about his girlfriend, who was off “doing some photography thing in South America,” and Castiel talked about anything except his family and his life. They roasted hot dogs on the fire, and burned the tips of their branches to spark so they could write fleeting messages into the night sky. Their laughs and jokes rumbled warmly between them until the embers of the fire were nearly out.

“All right, friend, I'm off for home,” Benny said, groaning as he stood and picked up his cooler.

When the truck's tail lights were nothing but specks in the distance, Castiel stared up again at the sky and slowly trudged into his house with his and Benny's bottles in hand. He dumped them into the recycling bin.

The television still flashed and Castiel realized he never turned it off. Before he could reach the remote, however, he glanced at the screen, jolted in his tracks for a moment before hurrying again for the remote. He didn't turn it off, however, but switched the 'mute' button so that the volume played quietly over the otherwise silent living room.

“The Kansas grown rock band, The Astronauts, will be returning to Lawrence for a homecoming show,” the news reporter said. “They have recently returned from their European tour and are now working on a US tour, starting with their hometown. The county says that the band will be playing in the recently opened amphitheater, and warned people to buy tickets ahead of time for they're certain to be sold out as soon as they're on sale.”

Castiel stared at the screen as Ruby Black, Fergus Crowley, Garth Fitzgerald waved at the screen. He searched desperately for one more face.

He didn't have to wait long. Castiel sat back in his chair, his heart plummeting to his stomach, as a bright smile and green eyes graced the screen: Dean Winchester.

Castiel's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and saw, above the couple of texts from Benny, a text from Gabriel.

_“Sorry, I forgot tonight was my night. Can I cover ya next week?”_

The news anchor talked about the band for a few more minutes before going on to the next breaking late night news story, while Castiel buried his face in his hands and his shoulders trembled.

**Author's Note:**

> Michael has early on-set dementia. Typically, dementia and alzheimers set in during a person's 70s-80s, at least in my experience. However, it is possible to get it younger, even at age 50. For those who have more knowledge in this field that wish to give me advice, I'm welcome to it.


End file.
